


Galawain's Chosen

by SuperQatarGirl



Series: Watcher of the Living Lands [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Animal Attack, Bathing/Washing, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Light Angst, Lion Companion, mentions of insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperQatarGirl/pseuds/SuperQatarGirl
Summary: The gods of Eora are rarely ever kind with their blessings, it seems.





	Galawain's Chosen

It was as normal a night as it got for the group: they had made camp not too long ago, right by a nice stream that provided both drinking and bathing water for them all. Hiravias had started a fire, while Pallegina and Edér pitched tents and Ninleyn went to take a quick wash. They had all agreed, well, all but Ninleyn, that the Watcher should go first so that he might rest longer. Ninleyn had protested but stern looks from both Pallegina and Sagani had shut the wisecracker right up and brought out a trembling bottom lip; Hiravias literally saw Aloth’s muscles tense up at the sight.

That had all been about fifteen minutes ago, if the druid had to guess, and Ninleyn had yet to return. He hadn’t fallen asleep in the water, had he? Gods, what if he’d drowned in his exhaustion?! Hiravias knew the man didn’t sleep well, at all, but…

The orlan looked over to Aloth, usually the first to freak out about the Watcher, and found him fast asleep, head resting on his cape-bundled grimoire. Okay, no help there. Edér had volunteered to take the first watch and was well out of sight, though not of smell. Sagani and Pallegina were obviously doing their own thing, things Hiravias did not want to disturb, so he took it upon himself to go look for their unofficial leader. Nobody would notice if he slipped away, too. Besides, the stream was right there, hidden by a few bushes, it would be fine.

It rather quickly turned out not to be as easy a job as Hiravias had thought it would be, as he could not see the Watcher anywhere, regardless of whether he looked up or down the stream. It had his ears and nose twitching slightly in attempts to either hear or smell the wood elf; the druid had pretty quickly noticed that Ninleyn had a very distinct smell to him, a combination of the smell of large cat and exotic wood. And it was that first smell that finally pointed Hiravias in the right direction thanks to a breeze coming from upstream that smelled distinctly of wet cat. Thankfully the smell was not as bad as that of wet dog, but it didn’t mean he liked it much. 

Following the scent, it did not take long before the orlan spotted Ninleyn as he ran callous hands through chin length strands of muted orange hair, the usual mane falling much more flat in its wet state. But more than the hunter’s hair, Hiravias noticed the supple back muscles, no longer buried under layers of cloth, leather or mail, as they had always been prior. Something about those shoulder blades reminded Hiravias of the stelgaer he had often observed hunting in the forests of Eir Glanfath; the way they rippled every time Ninleyn so much as twitched one of his arms, how it all seemed to fit so perfectly together, from his neck all the way down to–

Hiravias again found his attention diverted to what he saw just above Ninleyn’s right hip. There were scars, worse scars than the druid had ever seen on even the most experienced hunters of his tribe. The long stripes that looked like they might wrap around half of the wood elf’s lower torso were red and angry in colour still, though they looked not to be troubling their owner any. Hiravias suspected they might be older than they looked and found himself burning with curiosity, itching to know how Ninleyn might ever have acquired them.

“I was attacked by a lion when I was a child.” Ninleyn didn’t turn around to face Hiravias as he spoke, though the lion laying on the nearby riverbank looked the orlan straight in the eye. “I was out on my own, in the forests that surrounded the village I was born in. I don’t remember why I went out on my own. Was it to prove to my parents that I could take care of myself out there? Was it just because I wanted to know what lay beyond the dense foliage? The reason’s lost on me now, but I went out.”

The hunter lowered his arms slowly, bringing the left hand round to gently run his fingers over the scars, as if he first now remembered that they were still there, and still very much visible.

“I don’t remember how I got away from the beast.” His voice was unusually somber and Hiravias felt an oddly worried expression cross his own face at the sound and sight of the usually perky and witty man reduced to… well, this. “I mean, I can’t have wrestled it off, I can barely wrestle Kharis off me now.” The lion growled quietly in what sounded like agreement. “But I got out, managed to crawl or limp my way back to the village gates where one of the lookouts spotted me and called for the local priest to come heal my wounds. He called for my parents too, of course.”

Ninleyn finally turned to face Hiravias, golden eyes locking with spring green and sharp features contoured by the moonlight in ways sunlight could never hope to achieve. Hiravias decided then that Ninleyn was meant for the night, was meant to be seen in the pale shine of the moons and stars rather than the raw light from the sun; he was sure plenty people would envy him the sight if only they knew it existed. But again, his attention was drawn to the scars, just as red on the hunter's abdomen as they were on his back and stretching all the way to his navel, the longest of the claw marks even going a bit beyond.

“The priest did all he could to patch me up, using his divine powers as well as good old fashioned disinfectant and gauze. And while my parents were busy yelling at me and each other – mother with tears in her eyes – the priest leaned close to me and told me something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Hiravias felt himself swallow thickly, anticipation building in him; he didn’t know the Watcher was this good at telling stories or maybe the personal nature of the tale made it even more gripping than it might otherwise have been.

“Galawain’s chosen you, boy. He sent the beast to mark you and drove it from you when its purpose was fulfilled. He has marked you as one of his beasts, so wear your scars with pride, they are proof of a great honour.” Hiravias shuddered, the words of the priest, one so far away from where they currently were, resonating in him, echoing back words he had been told before. The look in Ninleyn’s eyes was intense, nearly burning as he seemed to measure Hiravias’ reaction to what were now his words; Hiravias could feel the hunter’s companion staring just as intently.

The mood lightened instantly when Ninleyn let out a deep chuckle and turned his head away from Hiravias, letting himself simply gaze into the dark of the forest on the other side of the river: “I was never much one for the gods, even as a boy, but that scared the shit out of me, I almost didn’t dare sleep for a month. The thought of someone having marked me as theirs? I didn’t like it. I am my own person, and will not be owned by anyone; that, I was always sure of. So I get how you feel about Galawain supposedly sending that stelgaer to “test” you or whatever you might call it. It’s not fun, and the pain will never really go away.”

Hiravias didn’t quite know what to say and as a result opted to stay quiet and just observe the Watcher’s body language: he was tense but not as tense as he had been before coming down to the stream or while telling his story. That, at least, was good. His chest rose and fell regularly with deep breaths and his eyes were closed gently. Calming motions, good, very good.

“We should probably get back to camp before the others start to notice we’ve been gone. Don’t want to give Aloth a heart attack.” Again, Ninleyn chuckled and looked back to Hiravias with a crooked smile on his lips.

“Yeah, we should,” the hunter concurred and ran a hand through his hair one last time. “You go on ahead, unless you wanna see the part of me that I am definitely proud of.” He sent a wink and a cheeky smirk the orlan’s way and even though Hiravias could feel himself blush in a way he was most certainly not proud of, he liked that Ninleyn was back to his usual self.

“Nah, you keep that to yourself, Watcher.” And with a cheerful laugh from the wood elf, Hiravias felt reassured and oddly liberated as he walked back to camp.


End file.
